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AN OPEN SECRET. 




COPVrllGHT, t689. BY WALTtH H. BAKER & CO- 



A. W. PINERO'S PLAYS. | 

Uniformly Bound in Stiff Paper Covers, yjv 

Price, 5J0 cents each. it 



nerd uescriptiolt. It is especially recoinineiided to young Indies' schools and 
colleges. (ISO 






The publication of tin plays of this popular author, made feasible by the new 

Copyright Act, under which his valuable stage rights can be fully protected, /|V 

enables us to offer to amateur actors a series of modern pieces of the highest *|* 

class, all of which have met with distinguished success in the leading English /AW 

and American theatres, ami most of which are singularly well adapted for aina- *$* 

tear performance. This publication was originally intended for the benefit of ifiV 

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This rate does not apply to })rofessional pey'formances, for which terms will be ifly 

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T 

TUP A'M'A70'Nr^ 1 A Farcical Romance in Three Acts. ByAirrrTrit *|J 

1 fXC ' ^-^"^^^>J» J \y. Pineho. Seven male and five female char- /AW 

■ acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior *U 

and an interior, not at all difficult. This admirable farce is too well known k|j 

through its re ent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company, New York, to M/f 

si 

THE CABINET MINISTER. | ii£5X£*ZSSo. A >& m % \» 

' and nine female character!}. t|j 

Costumes, modern society : scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- Mr 
genious in construcioi , and brilliant in dialogue." (1892.) 



f 



T}ATS]TYy r DTCTC I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthpr W. Pixero. 

■ L ^- rxi ^ J -^ z •»- / -t>-'A»-* Seven male, four female characters. Costumes, mod- k|j 

' ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece Mr 

was another success in the New York and Boston theatres, and has been ex- t|j 

tensively played from manuscript by amateurs, for whom it is in every respect \" 

suited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very funny, ^|% 

and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half. (1S93.) Mf 

w 

XT-TF T-TfYRRV T-JTYP*sF I A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthtr sk' M 

inn ITLKJ&DX nWROL, W. PlNEKO. Ten male, five female char- Vf 

acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- ^|*| 

terior: costumes, modern. This piece is best known iii this country through the \f[ 
admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philanthropy, and is full of 
interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it has been success- 
fully acted. Plays two hours and a half. (1892.) 



T ADV ROITMTTFITT I A Pla y In Four Acta - Bv artttitr w. 

l^r^ LJ l PW1N 1 IfUU Pinf.ro. Eijjht male and seven female ehar- 

acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, four 

interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, a little sombre in 
key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 



s» 



AN OPEN SECRET 



a Jarce in Etoo &cts 



BY 



MARIAN D. CAMPBELL 



BOSTON: 



^<&£^ASs<3L>t£^S*9^ 



1898 






CHARACTERS. ' 

Madge Apthorpe A college girl 

Jean Hey confidante 

Mrs. Apthorpe Her mother 

Grace Apthorpe Her sister, aged ten 

Edith "\ 
Elinor 
Carrie 
May 
Kate ^ 

Agatha Meade A girl not in the secret 

Time in playing, forty minutes. 



Classmates of Madge 



994 COSTUMES. 



White duck skirts and shirt-waists for the girls. Mrs. Apthorpe black silk, 
with small bonnet and lorgnette. Grace, a short dress, broad hat on the back of 
her head, and hair braided in two tight pig-tails. 



PROPERTIES. 



Two screens, «. quantity of sofa-cushions, five college caps and gowns, books 
tables, and chairs, a tea-kettle, a step-ladder, a picture, writing-paper, pen an 
ink, etc., lamp, table-covers. 



i 




Copyright, 1898, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



Note. — As first written, this play was intended for the " Emmanuel " club of 
Radcliffe College. The topical hits in it can be made to fit the nearest semi- 
nary or college. 



AN OPEN SECRET. 



ACT I. 



Scene. — A student V room in the Radcliffe dormitory, very barely 
furnished. Madge is seated at a table, r., busily writing notes, 
which she seals and stamps with a determined air. Enter Jean 
with a cheerful expression. On perceiving Madge's occupation, 
she stops short and watches her for a ?noment. 

Jean {suggestively) . Invitations to a spread? 
(Madge shakes her head, and continues her writing still more rap- 
idly ; Jean reflects.') 
Jean. Deutsche verein ? Cercle Francais ? Science club ? Class- 
day committee ? Advertising agency for the glee club ? 
(Madge shakes her head more and ?nore impatiently. Jean sinks 
despairingly into a chair.) 

Jean. Madge, have you lost your wits, or are you addressing 
circulars for a firm ? 

Madge (impatiently) . Oh, do keep still, Jean. You've just made 
me say I was decomposing, when I meant I was discomposed. 
Here, you're welcome to any amount of this literature. 
(She tosses a bundle of notes over to Jean, and continues her 

writing.) 

Jean (reads). " My dear Mr. Meade : Would you be willing to 
lend me a few of your rugs, and some sofa-pillows? I will take the 
best possible care of them, and return them by Saturday night. It 
would be delightful if you could get them here by Wednesday even- 
ing. Hoping that it will not be too much trouble, I remain, very 
sincerely yours, Madge Apthorpe." (Jean open s another letter and 
reads.) "My dear Tom" — (Looks surprised?) Is it all right 
\ for me to read this, Madge? 

J Madge (looks up from her writing). Oh, yes ; keep right on. If 
you come to anything you ought not to see, just stop. 

Jean (continues): "Dear Tom: I'm going to ask rather a 
favor of you, but I am very much in hopes you will not think it 
too much. Will you please send me the furniture of your room? 
Vou don't need to send all the books ; a few lexicons and some 
Sanscrit grammars will do nicely ; but I should like your window- 



4 AN OPEN SECRET. 

couch, if you can have it removed at such short notice. Please let 
me know at once when you can get them here. As ever, A. M. 
P.S. I'd like a cap and gown, too, please." 

Jean {aloud). Madge, what are you trying to do? {She starts 
to open another letter.} 

Madge. You needn't bother about reading any more, my style 
shows a striking similarity. 

Jean. But what do you mean? 

Madge. Oh, yes. I forgot you didn't understand. It's just 
this. My family — where's the letter — {She searches about her 
table, and pushes a pile of books and paper off on the floor.} I 
guess I've lost it. Never mind — my family are coming to visit me. 
In fact, they expect to arrive on Thursday, and this is Tuesday. 

Jean. That's nice. But what has it to do with these men and 
their furniture? 

Madge {fir inly). Had it struck you that this room resembled 
an anchorite's cell? 

Jean {politely). Why, no, dear; that is — er — it's — it's — 
very airy, and the sun shines in pleasantly, and — er — 

Madge {dryly). Oh, extremely. I didn't mean the natural 
beauties, but the furniture. 

Jean {doubtfully). Yes, the furniture. 

Madge. Or, to be more accurate, the lack of furniture, may 
strike my mother as peculiar, when she gave me two hundred 
dollars last fall for the express purpose of fitting up my rooms. 

Jean. Was that the money — ? 

Madge. Hush, my dear! To be brief, I found other uses for 
it, which I have not thought best to communicate to my family. 
Clearly, at this time, an explanation would be awkward. I saw but 
three ways out of the difficulty. First, to produce the money, wnu.lv' 
was impossible ; second, to borrow the money, which was imprac- 
ticable ; and third, to borrow everything else, which is exactly 
what I'm proceeding to do. 

Jean. But why on earth didn't you explain something of this to 
these men? They'll take you for a raving lunatic. 

Madge. Oh, no, they won't, my dear, being more or less 
accustomed to my little ways. Besides, it's one of my cardinal 
mottoes, " Never explain anything to a man." It takes trouble, and 
then, when you get through, they always knew all about it a lot 
better than you did ; and so you don't get thanked. 

Jean. But you might have asked the girls for things. 

Madge. Ye-es, I suppose I might ; but, Jean, what's the use of ! 
having men if you don't make them useful ? Besides, they appreci- 
ate you so much more if you're a lot of trouble. There ! {Sealing 
the last note.) One, two, three, four, five, six, seven — where are 
those other two? — nine. I think I've asked every man I know for 
everything he possesses. Now I'll post 'em, and see what the 
results will be. {Exit Madge.) 



AN OPEN SECRET. 5 

Jean. Results ! I should think so ! If I let her collect furniture 
from all over Harvard Yard, she'll get into an awful mess. She's 
always getting into messes, and this will be the worst one yet. I'll 
tell the girls about it, and we'll see what they can do for her. 

{Exit Jean.) 
{Re-enter Madge, yawning.) 

Madge. Oh, dear ! I feel as if I needed some relaxation after 
this severe mental strain. I think I'll go down to the reading-room 
and peruse the "Review of Reviews" and the "Ladies' Home 
Journal." {Looks at her watch.') Horrors ! Twenty-two minutes 
before twelve, and my English theme is due at noon. {Rushes to 
the table and takes up her pen.) Now, let's see. Scenery descrip- 
tions are the easiest things to do in a rush, for you can stop any- 
where and it seems appropriate — in fact, rather a welcome relief. 
{Writes.) " 'Tis moonlight. In the sky the bright stars glisten." 
That doesn't sound particularly original, but I guess it will do. 
{Writes.) " On the bank the pale moon shone." {Repeats with 
an air of deep satisfaction.) " Pale moon — «on the bank the pale 
moon shone." What bank? Indefinite. I'll have to scratch that 
out. {Erases.) Oh, dear, what happened next? I can't send in any 
more " two-line impressions," for that unfeeling instructor has got 
tired of writing "concise," and. now he labels them "feeble." 
{Reads it over to herself, and shakes her head.) Seems to me 
it's time something occurred. Oh, yes ! My own impressions. 
{Writes.) "An icy tremor seizes me" — which it truthfully does, 
for it's nearly quarter to twelve. {Writes.) "Fear grasps me in 
its vicious vice — opalescent transcendance etherealizes." There! 
I don't know what that means, so it certainly must be good. 
{Writes.) "Soft, dewy, and resplendant, the sun rises over the 
house-tops." I wonder if it's time for the sun to rise yet? The 
moon is only four commas and a semicolon back — oh ! I forgot 
the punctuation. {Inserts it with a flourish.) There! I do like 
the effect of four question marks and an exclamation point in a 
row. It gives such an air of style to the page. Now, let's see. 
{Writes.) " A lethargy is over me " — which means I don't want 
to get up. That's too plain — it has no relieving shadows. 
{Scratches out.) " The magnitude of focces is parallel." I wonder 
how you spell parallel — -i^lfe ihem aJlthe jfam^size, * g uess - 
{Writes.) " Let me try'iopropeTiy^e^^^s^Sti^eelings — properly 
let me try to express my feelings — let me properly try to express 
mv — properly let me try to express" — Oh, dear! I thought 
the English language was simple until I studied Hill's Rhetoric. 
{Writes .) " I am alone. Around me all is still." {A crash out- 
side.) Gracious Peter! what is that noise? 

{Another crash outside R. Madge, m« hastily from Iter chair \ 
and exit, L. Enter hurriedly from r., in procession, Carrie with 
giauo-lamp, Edith with rug and some books, May with table ', 



6 AN OPEN SECRET. 

Elinor with small armchair, Kate with another chair and a 
small rug. They set everything down in the centre of the stage, 
with the rug underneath, in a mess, and then draw a long breath 
of relief.} 

Carrie. Now, the first thing to do is to get something on the 
floor. 

(Carrie, Edith, and May begin moving everything off the rug, 
and piling it at the back of the stage. Kate and Elinor go out, 
and come back with a cottple of screens, which they lean against 
the wall at the back.} 

Edith. Now, I know just exactly how I want this rug fixed. 
Chorus. Yes ; so do I. 

{Each girl takes hold of one corner of the rug, and lifts it off the 

floor.) 

Edith {giving it °a pull). Now, it wants to go just this way. 

Elinor {pulling it). No ; it wants to go over this way. 

Edith. No ; it wants to look artistic. It ought to come over 
this- way, and lie at an angle. 

Kate {pulling it in still a?iother direction). No, it doesn't 
either — want to be artistic. We don't want the room to look as if 
we'd just fixed it up for Madge's mother. 

May. Well, it looks very untidy that way, anyhow. 

Carrie. Well, if it looked tidy, it wouldn't look like Madge's 
room, that's sure. 

Elinor. Let's put it down this way. 

Chorus. No, this way. 

{Each girl pulls the rug in a different direction, and tries to walk 
off with it. The rug comes up off the floor, and is carried around 
the front of the stage in a circle.) 

Elinor, Don't let's play ring-around-rosy with it any longer. 
Chorus. Let's put it down just here. 

{Each girl puts down her corner, and stands on it. Then they scrape 
out the wrinkles with their feet.) 

Edith. That's just where I wanted it in the first place. 

(Kate and Carrier? out, and come back with two big armfuls of 
sofa-pillows. May is fixing books on a table, R., and Edith tries 
to pull the rug without noticing her. May loses her balance, and 
tumbles over.) 

May {indignantly) . What did you do that for ? 
Edith. Oh, I beg your, pardon. I was fixing the rug. 
May. Well, that wasn't a rug, that was me. Don't you know 
me from a rug. I won't do another thing. 



AN OPEN SECRET. 7 

(Carrie comes in with small table, which she sets against the wall, 
L., and goes off. May and Kate retire to the back of the sta^e. 
Edith comes along, seizes Carrie's table, sets it out at an angle 
from the wall. Carrie enters with a lamp. Sees Edith, puts 
the lamp down on the floor, hurries over, and puts the table back 
again.) 

Edith. O Carrie, don't put it that way. Don't you see it 
doesn't look artistic ? 

Carrie. I don't care about your old artistic. I'm going to 
have it my way. 

(Edith tries to pull it out. Carrie pushes it back and sits down 

on it.) 

Kate. Now I'll show you what'll be the handsomest thing in 
the room. 

{She takes one of the screens, brings it down to the front of the stage, 
opens it, and sets it fist in front of the foot-lights'. Then she puts 
up the other just beside it. fust then Elinor looks up from the 
sofa-pillows she is arranging.) 

Elinor {laughs). I feel as if I were in the gymnasium. 
Edith. Looks as if we were trying to hide a folding bed. That 
won't do. 

(Elinor and Edith step inside the screens , fold them up, and walk 
off inside them to the back of the room. May and Kate sit down 
on chairs, R., and confide in each other. Edith sets eveiy piece of 
furniture at a different angle, and Carrie follows her, setting 

• them straight again. In the midst of it wanders Elinor, hum- 
ming " Sweet Marie' 1 ' 1 to herself, and piling a heap of sofa-pillows 
on every chair and table?) 

Kate {struck with an idea). Don't you think we'd get along 
better if we had er — less — somehow ? 

C Why, no, of course not. 
Idignant Chorus. < We're getting along beautifully, etc. 

Qlt's just what we need. 
Edith {with an air of explainifio things) . And then, if we had 
less, we wouldn't have so much — don't you see? 

May. But did you ever see such looking walls — they're so 
bare. Come on, Kate, and I'll get my " Angelus." 

{Exeunt May and Kate.) 
Edith. There, now they're gone, we'll get something done. 

{They set a table in the middle of the room, and arrange four or 
five chairs and two more tables in a semicircle around it. Eli- 
nor places two of her sofa-cushions on each chair.) 

Elinor. You don't think there are too many lamps, do you ? 



8 AN OPEN SECRET. 

Carrie {firmly). Certainly not. Six is none too many for a 
student's room. But I think we could get along with a few less 
sofa-pillows, Elinor, my dear. 

Elinor {indignantly). Certainly not. You can't possibly have 
too many. They give an air of tone to the room. I read it in the 
" Ladies' Home Journal." 

Edith. There, I think the room is getting to look really home- 
like — and artistic. 

{Re-enter May and Kate, with step-ladder and picture. They 
Push aside the other girls' 1 arrangement of furniture, and set up 
the ladder in the 7niddle of the room. The other girls rush to 
pick up the things with cries of dismay.) 

Kate {cordially) . Now, May, I'll hold it while you climb up. 

May {enthusiastically). Oh, no, dear; let me hold it for you. 
I'd just as lief. 

Kate. No, really, I shouldn't want to trouble you. 

May. But you can climb so much better than I. 

Kate. Oh, no, I can't. You're so much lighter on your feet, 
you know. Besides, I'm stronger to hold it up if it should tip, you 
know. {She tries to help May up the first step.) 

May. Oh ! {Screams and starts back.) 

Kate. If I should tip, and you should be underneath it, it would 
come right down on top of you. I'd much better hold it. 

(May gingerly gets up one step. The ladder begins to shake suspi- 
ciously. She grasps Kate by the neck or hair, as convenient. 

May {tenderly). O Kate, dear, I can't bear to have you under- 
neath me so. I — I might come right down on top of you. {Per- 
suasively.) Don't you want to climb up, Edith? 

Edith {quickly). Oh, no, thank you, dear. I — I'm so busy. 
Besides, you know so much more about picture-hanging than I do. 
I'll help Kate hold it. 

(May begins to climb up. She steps on her dress, and she has to 
hold that up. Kate takes hold of one of her hands, and tries 
to help her up. 

May {screaming as the ladder shakes). O Kate, dear, I'm so 
afraid I'll fall. I'd crush you if I did. {She tries to come down, 
but Kate and Edith resolutely assist her up. When she reaches 
the top she sits down with an air of relief, and finds the ladder in 
the middle of the room ; indignantly.) Well, what on earth am I 
to hang things on, I should like to know, now you've got me all 
the way up here? {Every one begins to laugh.) 

Edith. Well, it's your own fault. I should think any one would 
know better than to put the ladder in the middle of a room. 

May {rapidly coining dowii ; indignantly). Well, who put the 
ladder in the middle of the room? Did / put the ladder in the 
middle of the room? 



AN OPEN SECRET. 9 

Carrie {sitting 011 table, \..\jeeringly). Who wouldn't know 
better than to put the ladder in the middle of the room? 

May. All right ; hang it up yourself then. 

Carrie. You sit on this table so Edith can't move it, and I 
will. 

{They move the step-ladder to the back of the room. Carrie takes 
the picture, and climbs up.) 

Carrie. Now you stand off there, and tell me when it's right. 
Edith. Yes, we will. To begin with, that's too low. (Carrie 
moves it.) 

Chorus. That's too high. (Carrie moves it.) 
Chorus. That's too far to the right. (Carrie moves it.) 
Edith. ^ Move it up a little. ^ 

May. 2 Set it down more. > {Together.) 

Elinor. Q Too far over at one side, j (Carrie moves it.) 
Kate. That's too high. 



May. 
Edith 

! ^ That's too far to the left. 

*' \ That's too far to the right. 



> ' {Together.) That's too low. (Carrie moves it.) 



(Carrie lets go the picture.) 

Carrie. Well, you girls can come up and hang it yourself. / 
won't bother with it any more. 

Kate. Why, it's upside down! 

Chorus. I knew something was the matter with it. 

May. How &o you like picture-hanging, Carrie? 

Carrie. Well, I managed to hang it up on something, and that 
r.as more than you did, anyway. 

{Enter Madge.) 

Chorus {confused) . O Madge, we heard about your mother 
coming, and so we thought we'd surprise you. Jean told us you didn't 
know what to do, and so we got all our things together — and May 
got the step-ladder in the middle of the room — and Carrie hung it 
up on — Edith doesn't want to — May do anything, and we — 
(Madge puts both hands over her ears, and rushes to the front of 
the stage. Carrie's voice rises above the din.) 

Carrie. And so we brought up all our things to make the room 
look nice. 

May. There's lots more coming. 

{Bumping on the stairs outside.) 

Elinor. That's Tasco falling up-stairs with them now. 
Madge. But, girls — 

Edith. Now, my dear, you just sit still, and make yourself com- 
fortable. 



10 AN OPEN SECRET. 



May. Well have the room in order in no time. 

(A tremendous k7iockingat the door. Very deep voice roars, " Pack- 
age for Miss Apthorpe from Mr. Meade." A large bundle ap- 
pears at the door. Carrie picks it up and brings it to Madge, 
who sits down on the floor and looks at it, shaking her head. The 
girls gather around her. ) 

Edith. Open it, quick ! 
Carrie. What is it, candy? 
Elinor (hopefully}. Flowers? 
Madge {laconically'). More. 
May. More what ? Where from ? 
Madge. Men ! 

{Girls look at each other, surprised, a?id murmur " men ! ") 

Madge. I'd forgotten all about it. What shall we do? There 
isn't room enough to walk now. 

Elinor. Oh, we'll see about it. Never mind. 

{Girls open parcel, and scatter the rugs, etc., about.) 

Edith {consolingly) . We'll just put them up on top somewhere. 

{Loud knocking. Voice announces, very loudly, '■'■Package for 
Miss Apthorpe.'''' Edge of a large piece of fzir?iiture is piished 
in.) 

Carrie. What on earth is that? 

Madge. It's the window-seat I asked for. I forgot I hadn't 
any window to put it in. 

Edith. Well, let it stay out in the hall then. 
Elinor. There's no room for it in here. 
Chorus. Push it out ! Push it out ! 

{The girls all take hold of the edge, and begin to push. As fast as 
they get it nearly out of the door, it is pushed way in again) 

Madge (desperately) . Some one go and make that man take the 
thing away. I can't stand any more of it. 

May. Kate, you go out and settle with Tasco. I haven't the 
courage. 

(Exit Kate. The girls form a line before the door and listen. 
Sounds of dispute in the hall. Gruff voice rises and sinks, then 
KAte's voice; then voice gruffer than before, a clatter, and the 
sound of departing feet. Re-enter Kate . ) 

May. How did you get rid of him? 

Kate. Oh, I suggested that the fire in the library was smoking, 
and I'd seen his wife looking for him to fix it. He had to go down 
to Cambridgeport on an errand right away. (Girls all laugh.) 
Doesn't the room look great? 



AN OPEN SECRET. I I 

Edith. If there were only room enough to move, I think it 
might. 

(The girls try to sit down. They find the chairs covered with sofa- 
cushions. Each girl in succession picks tip the cushions fro?n her 
chair, and lays them on the table i?i the centre.) 

Madge. It's perfectly great, girls, and I'm ever so much obliged. 
(She removes a lamp, a tablecloth, and a pile of books fro?n a chair, 
and sits down.) Now, if I can only remember that May's pen isn't 
to be written with under any circumstances, and that none of the 
lamps have any oil in them, and that .Kate's chair isn't to be sat in, 
because the legs are rickety, I think I'll get on nicely. I'm ever so 
much obliged. 

(Knocking at the door opposite. Bell rings.) 

May {jumps up). Oh, there's luncheon ! Good-by! 
Madge. Good-by. Thank you ever so much. 
Chorus. Good-by ! Good-by ! 
Madge. I'm ever so much obliged. 
Elinor. Oh, we haven't done very much. 
Madge. Oh, you've done a great deal, thank you. 

(Exeunt girls.) 

(Voice announces, " Parcel for Miss Apthorpe." A big newspaper 
parcel is pushed into the room, bursting open as it comes.) 

Madge. What's this? There isn't room enough for another 
thing. Oh, dear, the cap and gown ! (She gets down 071 the floor, 
and begins to rummage in a mass of black things.) One, two, 
three, four, five, six. I wonder how many Tom thinks there are of 
me? (Reads from tags.) " 27 Holworthy, 76 Matthews, 32 Grays, 
stolen from 14 Ware." I wonder whether he meant me to wear 
them all at once, or in single file? I suppose I might as well try 
them on. (Puts jn otte which trails behind on the ground for a foot. 
The cap comes down over her ears. She takes it off, and tries on 
another, which comes just below her knees. She perches the cap on 
one side of her head, and looks at herself in the glass.) I wonder 
if mamma would think that looked academic. (Takes it off and 
kneels down near the footlights, begins to rumynage among the gowns 
again. Then she stops and laughs.) Here's the gown of the great 
big father bear, and here's the gown of the little baby bear. Now, 
if I could only find the gown of the medium-sized mother bear, I 
think -I'd get along nicely. 

CURTAIN, 



12 AN OPEN SECRET. 



ACT II. 



Scene. — Same as Act I. Mrs. Apthorpe and Grace discovered 
alone in Madge's room. Grace wanders about the room with 
her hands in her jacket pockets, casually but cheerfully investigat- 
ing everything. Mrs. Apthorpe examines things with a less 
approving air. 

Mrs. Apthorpe. I might have known that Madge wouldn't 
spend that money to advantage. Look at this dark red carpet and 
pale green table-cover. 

{Enter Elinor, bursting in with a tea-kettle in one hand, not seeing 

Mrs. Apthorpe.) 

Elinor. O Madge, I thought you ought to have a tea-kettle, and 
I knew Mr. Meade wouldn't get his here on time, and — (Sud- 
denly catches sight of Mrs. Apthorpe, and tries to conceal the 
tea-kettle behind her. ,) I beg your pardon, Mrs. Apthorpe. (Very 
effusively.) How do you do ? I am so glad to see you. (Mrs. 
Apthorpe tries to shake hands ; Elinor has to shift the tea-kettle 
into the other hand behind her back.) 

Mrs. A. This is — ? 

Elinor. Elinor Spencer. 

Mrs. A. So glad to meet you, Miss Spencer. I've so often 
heard Madge speak of you. Won't you sit down ? 

Elinor. No, thank you ; I'm in a great hurry. (Aside.) I 
wonder how I am going to get out of the room without turning my 
back. 

(Grace edges suspiciously around at one side, trying to fijid out what 
Elinor is holding; a loud noise of thimiping is heard in the hall.) 

Elinor. There ! that's my lecture. I must go. You see that's 
— that's the new way of calling us«to lectures. (A knocking at the 
door.) The professor goes out and thumps, and — and — (she gets 
somewhat incoherent) — once for English, twice for Latin, three 
times for Greek — and so on. I think this must be for Sanscrit — 

Mrs. A. Dear me, how interesting — 

Voice (rather indistinctly) . Package for Miss Apthorpe — 

Mrs. A. What was that ? 

Elinor. I think the instructor is getting impatient. I really 
must go. (She bows herself out without turning her back.) ' 

Mrs. A. What singular manners these Radcliffe girls have. But 
I don't wonder, if the professors have such peculiar ways and such 
voices. I should think the noise in the halls would disturb the 
classes. 

Grace (with an air of canvittiori). It was a tea-kettle, 
mamma. 



AN OPEN SECRET. 1 3 

Mrs. A. {absently}. What was a tea-kettle, my dear? Now I 
should think it would be much better for the girls to know what 
time the lectures were going to be and to go to them, instead of 
being collected like laundry bundles ; but I suppose I don't under- 
stand social life at Radcliffe. 

(Grace sits on the table and swings her feet meditatively.} 

Grace. Yayah ! That was a tea-kettle, and there was a package 
in the hall. Why did that girl go out backward, mamma? 

Mrs. A. I'm sure I don't know, my dear. Perhaps it was gym- 
nastic exercise. I wonder where Madge is — 

Grace. I should think if they always did gymnastic exercises 
that way, they would bump into each other. Why don't they, 
mamma? 

Mrs. A. Grace, get off that table at once ; I'm ashamed of you. 

{Enter Madge, unperceived at the back.} 

Madge. Now for it. I hope I look innocent and happy. I 
don't feel it. (Coming forward.} Why, mother, where did you 
come from. I didn't expect you so early. (Aside.) That isn't a 
lie, at any rate. 

(Madge and her mother embrace. Then Madge and Grace.) 

Madge (throwing books on the table). I've just come from a — 
a — Latin recitation. So sorry I wasn't here to meet you — 

(Grace wanders over and begins- to examine the books which 
Madge has just put down.) 

Grace. Why, mamma, here are the Dolly Dialogues. 

Madge (turning toward her). Why, Grace dear, how you've 
grown. (Gently removes the books from Grace's hands.) Don't 
you think she has, mother? 

Mrs. A. (surprised). Why, no, not particularly, in three 
months. (Aside.) I hate to hurt her feelings, but I really must 
speak about the arrangement of this room. It's atrocious. What 
could she have been thinking of to get such things. 

(As Madge turns away from Grace, her gown, which is much too 
large, and not fitted at all behind, sags and flops as she walks, 
and catches her mother's eye.) 

Mrs. A. My dear Madge, where did you get that gown? 

Madge (absently). I think it's the one from 26 Matthews — that 
is — it's — it's — 

Mrs. A. Did you have it made to order at the best place, as I 
told you to? 

Madge. Yes — er — that is it came by special order. (Aside.) 
There's some truth in that in any case. 

Mrs. A. I don't think it could have been a good dressmaker. 



i 



TT 



14 AN OPEN SECRET. 

Madge {with absorbed interest) . Grace, dear, come tell me how 
you are getting^on with your piano-lessons. 

Mrs. A. Why, my dear, Grace has not had a piano-lesson for 
three years. 

Madge. Oh — er — yes — I meant the — er — the violin, or 
(desperately) the cornet, I believe. 

Mrs. A. (aside). I am sure that Madge is injuring herself by 
over study. She's not at all herself. 

(Grace wanders about, opening books, pulling at drawers, and 
looking i?i corners. She finds one or two notes from men which 
she reads in an undertone. Madge watches her uneasily, while 
she tries to talk with her mother', knock; enter cheerfully Agatha 
Meade, a girl not in the secret.) 

Agatha. O Madge, I came to ask about the plans for — but you 
are busy, I see. (Stopping short.) Isn't that Edith's dreadful 
lampshade that her aunt sent her at Christmas ? 

Madge (trying to stand between her and other things). Yes ; she 
wanted to try it with a pale green table-cover. 

Agatha. Nothing could make it look well. But (looking past 
Madge) how did you come by a sofa-pillow just like my brother's? 

Madge. Could you come at six to talk over things? Good-by 

— good-by — good-by ! 

Agatha (astonished). Yes. (Exit.) 

Mrs. A. There seems a lack of cordiality in your manner, 
Madge, which I don't like ; but, let me see — we were talking about 
your gown, were we not? Now, suppose I go to the dressmaker 
with you ; I am sure there must be some mistake. 

.(Tries to fix it ; Madge twitches uneasily, still watching Grace.) 

Madge. Oh, no, mother dear ; I — I wouldn't bother you for the 
world. Besides, it's all right. They all do that way. (Aside.) 
That is, all that Tom sent me did. (Aloud.) What a pretty dress 
you have on, Grace. Come here and let me see it. 

(Grace reluctantly saunters over to Madge, who puts her arm 
round her j Qr ace objects.) 

Mrs. A. (aside y gazing about the room). To think that a 
daughter of mine should put a bright pink lampshade and a dark 
yellow one on a pale green table-cover. (Aloud.) Madge, my dear, 
where did you get that table-cover ? 

Madge (confused; lets go of Grace). I guess that's Kate's. 
That is — er — Kate chose it, you know. 

Mrs. A. Well, Kate has very bad taste. 

Grace. Madge, what are all these different names in the books 

— Ralph Meade, Robert Morse, Tom — 

Madge. Grace, will you please let my books alone. I'm — I'm 
afraid your hands aren't clean. 









\ 



AN OPEN SECRET. 1 5 



f 



Grace. Oh, yes they are ; I washed them yesterday. I've got 
\ my gloves on too. {Continues.') 

{Knock j enter Kate hastily?) 

t Kate. Well, Madge, is it over ? {Seeing family.') Ah — oh 
— no, I mean — excuse me — {Hastens out.) 

Mrs. A. Another queer but apparently worthy girl. She 
eemed anxious about you, Madge — 
Madge. Yes ; she probably wanted to ask about my hour exam- 
ination. I've been having one, you know, and for some reason 
"she thought I might not get through. 

tJ M 1 ^, A. These are really very handsome rugs. Now what is 
ae make ? 

{Stools to pick up a corner of the rug.) 

f. Madge {aside). And Tom's name is on the under side just at 
nfiat corner. {Laying her hand on the rug ; aloud.} I — I wouldn't, 
i t 'pther. You — you might raise a dust. It — it's some time since 

was swept — r±£ 
un MRS. A. But, my dear Madge, don't you know that is very 

('healthy — 
^gjPRACE {picking tip the corner). Oh, no, it isn't dusty ; and 
^jgVe's the name of the maker right here — "Tom Hereford, 26 

•thews." 
( Madge {aside). It's all over now, so here goes. {Aloud.) 
jph, I remember now, that was where it came from. You see, 
Mother, I — 

/ Mrs. A. Why, my dear, did you get it second-hand ? 
~j£ Madge. Why — er — that is, yes, mother — at least, no. 
{T%side; mopping her brow.) I never realized before that the hard- 
Vst part of crime is getting out of it. I've got to stick it out. 
^4 loud.) O mother, don't you want to read my daily themes? 
j^re's a pile of them in the rough draft. {Sweeps a pile of manu- 

$pts into her mother's lap, arid starts after Grace.) 
Mea[RS. A. {putting up the lorgnette; reads). "My dear Mr. 
j ows '-de, would you lend me a few of your rugs and some sofa-pil- 
want" Here's something scratched out. {Reads slowly.) " I 
a ^wthem Thursday" — a blot — " return them Saturday." What 
peculiar daily theme. 

{Knock.) 

ce. Package for Miss Apthorpe. 
(Mad- 

\ge hurries to the door. Her mother turns from reading the 

"daily.") 

Ma'Z • A* Madge, my dear. 
mot j 1€ l3GE {hastily stuffing the package behind the sofa). Yes, 
h. 

(Grace dives behind the sofa after the bundle.) 

1 



l6 AN OPEN SECRET. 

Mrs. A. Is this the usual style of daily ? 

(Grace emerges, dragging the btmdle after her.) 

Madge. Why, yes; I thinks so. (Seizing the letter from her 
mothers hand with sudden horror.) Oh, yes — that is — ei 
special exercises in composition. It's in Barrett Wendell, yoi 
know. 

Grace (aside, tugging at the string). I wish I had a pair o) 
scissors. p I 

Mrs. A. Is it, truly ? Now I should have thought anybrid; 1 
could write a letter like that. Is all Ballet Windall like this, nr 
dear ? 

Grace {in triumph). There ! I bit it open. 

i 
(Mrs. Apthorpe and Madge turn to face a mass of rugs, picture 
and teapots over which Grace is ru?nmaging.) 

Mrs. A. Madge ! 

Madge (sinking into a chair and casting her cap on thefloo? 
My doom is sealed ! 

Grace (picking up the cap). And here's the same name in 
cap that there was on the rug — 

Madge (aside). If I don't get even with you. 

Mrs. A. Will you explain what is the meaning of this, and v 
you find it necessary to borrow furniture from strange young me* 
when I gave you money for your furnishing last fall ? 

Madge. Mother, I spent it — otherwise. 

Mrs. A. (stiffly). For what? 

Madge. In the lunch-room for buns. - X 

(Mrs. Apthorpe shakes her head, and looks af Madge solemft* 
through her long'tette.) 

Madge. I took the junior class to the Castle Square. (M 
Apthorpe still shakes her head.) I bought Victor Hugo in nin 
seven volumes for French. 

Mrs. A. There are but fifty-three volumes, my dear. 

Madge. Mother, I cannot tell a lie ; I gave it to the c 
scholarship fund. 

(Mrs. Apthorpe shakes her head and is about to speak wj 

THE CURTAIN FALLS. 



1 : 



HF MAH-TSTR ATF I A Farce in Three Act3. BV Arthur w. 
rUL lVl/lAJiO 1 JVA 1 E~ | PlXERO< Twe ive male, four female char- 



IE NOTORIOUS 
RS- EBBSMITH. 



THE SECOND 
S TANQUERAY, 



A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur "W. 
PiXERO. Eight male and tive female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
interiors. This well-known and powerful 
play is not well suited for amateur per- 
:e. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in 
Hl^° the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. 



/is 



acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, all 
•rior. The merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the most popu- 
of its author's plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the 
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ibiiity for amateur performance has been shown by hundreds of such pro- 
ious from manuscript during the past three years. Plays two hours and 
if. (18U2.) 



MR< 

Ma. 






A Drama in Four Acts. By Arthur "W. /4\ 
PlNERO. Eight male and five female charac- 
ters; scenery, all interiors. This is a " prob- 
lem " play continuing the series to which- " The 
Profligate " and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray" 
tu, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited for 

■ur performance. It is recommended for Reading Clubs. (1895.) Jl\ 

2 PPOFT ICr AT*F I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pixe- '%? 

t • — ^ ivvl 1-riVJn. i i^t RO# Seven male and five female characters. ik\ 

— ' Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; ^.V 

-•^'.les, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic in fj\ 

it 'eut, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for ama- y k s 

j'rformance. (1892.) fL\ 

Un i* ^fHnnT MT^TPF^^ [ A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur f|\ 

( . OK^ITLWI^IVILO I IVJLOO. W. Punero. Nine male, seven fe- sli 

Up. ' male characters. Costumes, mod- w§\ 

i iery. three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable jtji 

Ala ' s played by Miss Kosina Yokes during her last season in America with wm\ 

• ess. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- iiv 

( brilliant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quaint and humor- f||| 

>. The Hon. VereQueckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece Juv 

r 11 respects suitable for amateurs. (1894.) 0m\ 



scn , Also in Cloth, $1.00. kj^ 

^- ~T T AVFTVJTYPT? I A Comedy in Three Acts. Bv Arthur ^1/ 

Mea i-^l.Vlii'Ni/l-JX.#j w. PiNERO. Seven male and four female ?I* 

l ows ■ characters. Scene, a single interior, the \l/ 

* three acts: costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known JV* 

Want piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been %■/ 

a very ,1m '> !1 £ the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its .1^ 

•* rest abundant and stixmg. (1893.) \l# 

Voi [MES I A Comedy in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Ptxero. Six *ff 

v * I male and seven female characters. Scene, a single ele- tli 

i MAD — '. gant interior; costumes, modern and fashionable. An Vr 

v , piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor, fcli 



'PATT'PT? CR"V I A Comedv in Three Acts. Bv Arthur ji\ 

^**v^*V iJA-^V. w Piner'o. Eight male and eight female IM 

Hiothe characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, ?Iv 

•s, not difficult. This very amusing comedy was a popular feature of %■# 

ire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this country. It presents a plot of Jv. 

untie interest, and its incidental satire of" Woman's Rights" em- 11/ 

admirably humorous characters, and inspires many very clever lines. Jv. 

characters are unusually even in strength and prominence, which %■# 

very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) vIC 







LIBRARY 



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NEW OPERETTAS FOR urSJUlLZ^ 505 





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I ODD OPERASSEVEN TIDE. 
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EDITH'S DREAM. 

9n ©peretta far CijtlfcrciL 

Words by MARGARET FEZANDEE and EDGAR MORETTE. 
Music by EUGENE FEZANDIE, Jr. 



Eleven characters, girls and boys, or all girls, as preferred ; ten or more addi- 
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Price 



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A Collection of Short and Simple Musical 
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By MRS. G. N. BORDMAN. 



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